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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28126158">shake my crumbled bones</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettydizzeed/pseuds/prettydizzeed'>prettydizzeed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>safe &amp; holy [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Author is trans, Explicit Consent, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Cobb Vanth, Trans Din Djarin, Trans Male Character, t4t</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:42:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,348</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28126158</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettydizzeed/pseuds/prettydizzeed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’d be into it if you were offering,” Vanth says, smooth and steady, “but I wasn’t about to ask.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>safe &amp; holy [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076825</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>188</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>shake my crumbled bones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>if you’re under 18 please don’t read this one</p><p>title from safe and holy by christine &amp; the queens</p><p>heads up the words “cunt” and “cock” are used to describe parts of a trans man’s body</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, Din says finally, “are you ever going to ask?” He’s eaten, cleaned his body and his armor, and rubbed the salve Vanth insisted he use into his sore muscles, trying not to look too closely at the multicolored bruises blooming across them. The kid’s asleep in the closed pram in the far corner of the room, having also been fed, and Vanth has just finished the last swallow of his nightcap. Din isn’t sure what he’s waiting for.</p><p>“Ask what?” </p><p>Din snorts. “You invited me to spend the night in your home. That usually has certain… implications.”</p><p>“Just bein’ hospitable,” Vanth says, shrugging with one shoulder, then squints at him. “What, you thought I was gonna put the moves on you with you beat half to death and your kid in your arms?”</p><p>“You wouldn’t be the first,” Din says. “For the former, at least.”</p><p>Vanth frowns. “That’s not my style, pal.”</p><p>“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,” Din says, feeling out of his element, embarrassed and maybe a bit disappointed. Which is absurd—what, he was fine when planning how to reject the man, but now that Vanth isn’t actually interested, it’s a problem? He should be relieved. Less questions to answer, this way, less explaining to do. Less of a chance he’ll have to take the kid to his speeder and hit the road in the middle of the night.</p><p>“Nah,” Vanth says, waving a hand in his direction, “it’s fine, I’m more pissed on your behalf than anything else. Any you didn’t get the interest wrong,” he adds after a moment, “just the acting on it.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Din asks, as cautiously as he can. He’s feeling that relief, now, entirely too late to assuage his concerns.</p><p>“I mean I’d be into it if you were offering,” Vanth says, smooth and steady, “but I wasn’t about to ask.”</p><p>“I—I don’t have much to offer,” Din says, and Vanth seems to get how he means it, not as a self-deprecation but a status report on the ways in which his movements are restricted by culture and creed and sheer exhaustion. </p><p>Most importantly: it’s not a no. Din can tell this registers to Vanth by the way he wipes his hand on his pants leg, tugs at the fresh scarf tucked into the collar of his shirt. </p><p>“Look, you’re going to have to tell me what you’re looking for, here,” Vanth says, moving to sit beside him on the couch, enough distance between them that they aren’t touching. “Even if that’s just for me to go to bed.” He smiles, easy even with all the tension in the room, and Din relaxes despite himself, enough to name the flickering feeling in his chest as hope. </p><p>Din clears his throat. “The armor stays on,” he says, and Vanth nods calmly. There isn’t a shred of disappointment in his features, which is so welcome it’s terrifying. “But—if you wanted to—” He sets his hand on the side of Vanth’s knee, fingers brushing the back of his calf, and at the man’s nod, guides his leg over so he’s straddling Din’s lap.</p><p>“You want me to grind on you?” Cobb asks, totally serious, but when Din lets out a shaky breath and nods, his expression turns teasing. “Well, honey,” he says, running his hands down Din’s shoulders, his sides, “it certainly wouldn’t be a hardship.” He makes a soft humming noise to himself and continues touching Din’s armor and flightsuit, each movement clearly telegraphed ahead of time, steady and predictable. That feels like as much of a miracle as Din emerging from the dragon alive, just as much something that never should’ve happened in a just and sensible universe.</p><p>Thank the stars for chaos, then, and for men who would care for his child if need be, who fight beside him in battle as if they are one being, who would have spent the night with a wall between them and never said a word.</p><p>Cobb takes Din’s hand and guides it to his ass, asks low near Din’s ear, “You gonna move me, baby? Gonna make me feel good?” Din swallows hard and squeezes his ass with the one hand and then both, pulls Cobb’s hips down against the codpiece of his armor in fluid, elliptical motions. “Kriffing stars,” Cobb says the first time Din raises his own hips to meet him, and Din can’t help but agree; even though most of the pressure is on his packer, the movement still sends jolts of heat through his gut. </p><p>Din raises a hand to Cobb’s shirt, then, and at Cobb’s <em> Kriff, please, </em>helps him get it off. The scars on his chest are jagged, rougher than Din’s own, but he drags Din’s hand over one of his nipples and exhales shakily, so he definitely has better sensation, Din notes.</p><p>”Paid a fortune for whatever neurorouting skin receptor procedure was new to the market at the time,” he says, somehow understanding the reason for Din’s contemplative silence. “Dunno if anyone else would say I got my money’s worth, since they don’t exactly get much use, but it sure is nice.” Din brushes his other hand over Cobb’s other nipple, and again, and yeah, he thinks, it’s nice, alright.</p><p>Cobb stands, one hand reaching out instinctively to Din’s shoulder for balance. His legs are shaking, Din notes with a detached sense of pride. “Okay if these come off?” he asks, hands on his waistband, and when Din nods, he leaves his pants in a pile on the floor and straddles one of Din’s thighs, Cobb’s own leg pressed between Din’s legs firmly enough for him to feel an increase in pressure even through all the layers.</p><p>“You can play with my cock, if you want,” Cobb pants some minutes later, so Din pulls it out of his underwear and does, debating briefly whether he’s grateful his gasp can’t be heard through his helmet before deciding to table that particular introspection for a time when he doesn’t have a man squirming and moaning in his lap.</p><p>It feels like a dream, like something he made up—Cobb, with his head thrown back, throat bared, grinding his cunt on the cold of Din’s armored thigh, Din watching the soft leather of his own gloves rub against Cobb’s cock as he jerks him off. Cobb is wet enough for it to get on Din’s thigh guard through his underwear, which is—great Mandalore, it’s sacrilegious, but it’s hotter than both of the Tatooine suns combined. </p><p>“You gonna jerk off in my ‘fresher afterwards?” Cobb asks, panting, forehead pressed to Din’s pauldron. </p><p>“Yes,” Din admits after a beat, and Cobb groans. </p><p>“Gonna think about that every time I use the sonic for months,” he says, “maybe the rest of my life,” and Din knows it’s just the sex talking, the hazy desperation of contact, trying to release a pressure that only seems to build, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling wild about it, the bare and oddly tender syllables stretching on without a denial. Din tugs Cobb’s cock once, twice, rubs his thumb in insistent circles against the sensitive underside of the head, and Cobb trembles in his arms as he comes, teeth and fingernails clinking against the beskar, then collapses in a pile of sharp joints and sun-roughened skin.</p><p>It can’t be just this moment forever, Din knows—he’s worked up enough that he’ll need to get up to do something about it soon, and then he’ll need to sleep before he ushers the child off to Mandalore knows where in search of people whose armor fits them and who would likely view even this as against Creed, in spirit if not in letter, and he’s really going to have to sanitize his armor again. But he’s got a moment, now, with Cobb in his arms, folded against his chestplate like neither the texture nor the temperature bother him at all, and Din, selfishly, quietly, lets that moment stretch on and on, barely even breathing lest he break it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>more to come for these two soon, with actual plot next time</p></blockquote></div></div>
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